The Needle and Its Hammer
by 7thtreasure
Summary: Things Gendry did and did not do for and to a certain daring girl, a certain lady who was not a lady...


**For the GendryxArya shippers out there and in me...**

**(This is set in the same AU as 'All For Her, Only Her', a prequel of sorts, only it's Gendry-centric. A multi-chapter fic is in the works set in the same AU.)**

**(Read in 3/4 format...It looks better)**

* * *

There were many things Gendry did not do when it came to Arya.

He did not ask her to understand.

A bastard like him would never have had amounted to anything to a lady as highborn as her.

_He watched her eyes fill with anger and pain. He was a Knight of Hollow Hill now. Weren't ladies supposed to like knights? But he guessed they only liked knights with shiny armor, not baseborn smiths covered in soot and grime. Why should it matter to her anyway?_

_He would feel her accusing glare on his back whenever his mount passed hers as they travelled towards her king brother's army so he kept to watching her from behind._

* * *

He did not ask her to listen.

Why should he have had to explain why he joined Lem and the rest to her who would've left him just as easily once she had been returned to her family?

_"...You joined a bunch of mummers and cutthroats to be a bloody knight." she spat at him_

_He felt anger and guilt bubble from within as her words cut through him._

_"Sorry to disappoint, m'lady, not all of us were born in castles raised to be lords an' ladies an' knights. I had a chance to be part of something and I _took_ it." he had snapped at her._

_"You were a part of _my_ pack." she hissed._

_He watched her storm off back to the inn, her words ringing in his ears._

* * *

He did not tell her he knew she cried in the dark.

_He could hear her just behind him, whimpering like a wounded puppy, whenever the wolves howled at night._

_"Father...no...please..."_

_He tried to remember the man who shared her dark hair and long face._

_"Mother...Jon..."_

_He tried to ignore the twist of his gut. Jon, the man who gave her her precious sword. _

_He hated having to ask her about him. She would always throw the questions back at his face. It was none of his business anyway._

_He knew was that she loved the man, saw it in the way her eyes flashed when he mentioned the other's name and in her voice as she called for the man at night._

_For all he knew, Jon was an uncle, a friend, any boy who would've mattered to a girl like her. Knowing this Jon character held such a place in her heart left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was none of his business. She _was_ just a girl anyway, albeit highborn, but still just a girl who easily passed for a boy._

* * *

He did not tell her he cared.

* * *

He did not tell her how angry she made him feel sometimes. How frustrated he would feel whenever she opened her mouth. How strange the feeling that stirred in his stomach whenever he saw her lips twist in any form of a smile, be it mocking or a real smile.

He did not tell her how alive she made him feel all the time. How his blood quickened when he talked to her. How strangely warm he felt around her.

_He barely felt the sting whenever her foot connected with any part of his body, only his lungs when he laughed in amusement. He laughed and smiled whenever he could while he was with her, knowing her moods changed like the wind._

_One minute they would be joking, the next, she would call him stupid._

* * *

He did not kiss her when he could have, when he should have, even if she was just a slip of a girl then.

* * *

...But there were also some things he did for a certain dark haired girl.

He did press his back against Arry to give the other urchin warmth.

_They trudged on tiredly and finally made camp, the other 'volunteers' for the Wall milling about._

_He found a soft spot in the ground and slumped down for sleep, turning to his side as he pretended not to see the one the other boys teased as Lumpyhead sidle up behind him. He shifted backward, telling himself he was cold anyway. He received a grunted __'__thanks__'__ as the other stopped shivering._

* * *

He did his best to block her from view of the Mountain's men or anyone who thought to look twice at the dirty serving girl.

_"What do you think you're doing?"_

_And she called _him_ stupid._

_"Just shut up, Ar-Weasel, and stay behind me." he grunted in reply, warily watching Polliver grab at another woman._

_"I can take care of myself."_

_He couldn't help snort at her, receiving a punch to his side._

_"Tell that to the rapers then. They won't care that you're dirty or small. A cunt is a cunt the same."_

_He could still hear her muttering threats of killing them all off when she got the chance. Even in the direst of situations, he did not know whether to be amused or upset at this lady who never spoke or acted like one._

* * *

He did trust Nan with his life as they ran from Harrenhal.

* * *

...And then there were the things he did for a certain dark haired woman.

He did hug her tight against him, uncaring at the pointed looks they received from Jeyne and the rest, when she showed herself as a woman, barely grown wearing breeches, in front of his forge.

_He flexed his arms before continuing his work, ignoring the howls of wolves that sounded so close yet so far. He did not like thinking about wolves especially as the days grew shorter._

_He could barely hear the sound of hooves over the clanging he was making._

_"Gendry, we have a guest who is asking how much for a sword."_

_Willow's call made him pause._

_He glanced at the short hooded stranger standing at the forge's entryway._

_"Don't have any usable ones for sale and no good steel on hand."_

_He proceeded with his work, somehow unbothered as the newcomer approached him, silent as a cat. He could hear Willow slip back inside, no doubt to call on her older sister._

_"How 'bout reforging an old one?"_

_He pulled away in surprise at the woman's voice as she dropped a small sword on his anvil. He examined it in shock, blood roaring in his ears. He knew the sword all too well, it and its owner constantly plaguing his dreams._

_"It's too small for me now."_

_He whirled around just to see the stranger leave the forge. His hammer clenched in his hand as he strode off after her._

_"This is castle forge steel. Where'd you steal it?" he demanded, his heart beating faster, fearing the other's reply, but hoping all the same._

_"No one's ever been able to steal Needle away from me ever since I stole it back."_

_She did not pause from walking away before he pulled her to him. In a flash of movement, he was on his back, feeling the knife against his throat but unable to help the growing smile on his face._

_"You should know better than to grab at a Faceless Man, stupid Bull."_

_He felt the knife get pulled away as he let out a breathy laugh, his mind unbelieving but his heart bursting with inexplicable emotion at the thought that _she_ was alive. Warm and alive._

_Alive. She was alive, and with the new found knowledge, he could feel as if winter did not truly have to stay forever._

_He hefted himself to his feet, grabbing at her coat as he pulled her into his arms. He could feel her warmth, his embrace meeting no resistance. He did not mind as he became aware of others watching, all he knew was that a certain someone was shifting uncomfortably against him._

_"Let go. _They're_ all watching."_

_For the moment, he allowed himself to breathe her in, for everything to fall away except for the cold hard ground underneath them. He allowed his body to feel only her warmth and the biting wind that whipped at their exposed skin, refusing to be ignored._

_He allowed all his senses to be filled by her, only her. The moment passed and he stepped away, examining her. He did not know the face but somehow, his heart refused to believe in what his eyes were saying. He knew this girl, this stubborn woman._

_She had always been good at lying, at hiding. They had all been liars to survive. Lying to others and to themselves. She was a liar and it did not matter, he would always trust her words anyway. _

_"Why're you here?"_

_"Needle needed some fixing and I only know one smith stupid enough to do it for free."_

* * *

He did finally steal a kiss knowing she liked to think it was only because she let him.

_He watched surprise turn into confusion then into curiosity on her face after he pressed his lips against hers. He was not surprised to find those same lips kiss back. She never liked to lose._

* * *

...There were also many things Gendry did not do for the woman who annoyed him, frustrated him, made him desperate to no end...even when he was willing, wanting, to do everything for her, to her.

He did not press her for more than the hurried kisses, the few words of explanation, and the feverish touches beneath the furs.

_He felt himself almost explode in sheer pleasure as he felt her slick tongue flick against his wet tip before being completely encased in her mouth. He could not bring himself to pull away as he spilled his seed, crying out her name. He pulled her up, kissing her, tasting himself on her lips and loving it._

_She was driving him mad and he could not bring himself to stop her. He pressed her beneath him, already hardening again at the sound of her sighs as he covered her breasts with sweet kisses, venturing lower down her abdomen._

_Although his cock begged to enter her, be one with her completely, he forced himself to be content with just touching every part of her with every part of him with the exception of his throbbing member._

_He used his tongue in a way he knew she liked, causing her to cry out, ignoring the painful need between his legs. He stroked himself, timing it to push over the edge just as she did, pleasure shooting through his limbs._

_He slumped over her as he rode out his climax, feeling her hand join his as he pumped the rest of his need onto their fingers. He told himself it was enough. Just being with her, feeling her touch him was enough...even when his heart twisted in pain knowing he would never make her his completely._

_She belonged to herself, to the north, to her pack. He told himself it was enough._

* * *

He did not expect a proper answer from her, needing none, when he asked her for what he knew was impossible from the moment he met her, from the moment he met Arya Stark.

_He traced an almost invisible scar right below her navel as he watched her breasts rise and fall to her peaceful breathing. It would be dawn soon and he would have to face Jeyne's and the others' questions on their latest guest, a guest whose side he had not left since the moment she was allowed a room. No one recognized her with the unfamiliar face she had worn anyway._

_She had slipped it off when he followed her into the dingy room. He did not understand how she did it and admitted to being afraid to know. He had heard enough stories of the Faceless Men growing up in the filthy streets of King's Landing, he did not want to hear them from her lips. From the lips of one who had become something, he hated to admit, that frightened him._

_"I love you." he whispered as he pressed a kiss on her fore. Her eyes, now their true color of grey, finding his. He tried to catch whatever emotions flitted through her eyes, knowing she was allowing him to read her._

_"I love you too..."_

_He knew it was not a lie but he heard what she was not saying in words._

_"But you will not be mine." he sighed in resignation as he buried his face in her hair._

_"No, I will not."_

_"I could make you mine."_

_He heard her snort as he felt her arms pull him closer._

_"I leave for the north...once you're done with Needle."_

* * *

He did not ask her to stay, even just for a bit longer, by his side, knowing she would not.

_He continued to polish the remade sword in his hand, checking the balance for the hundredth time, his back facing her. He held his tongue, a thousand questions still unanswered, but he held it anyway._

_"I dreamt of my brother. Of my brothers. Of my pack. Bran called me. I have to go north."_

_He turned to her, handing her the sword. He kept quiet knowing she would say what she had to say._

_He watched her admire the blade made new, waiting for her to continue._

_"It's beautiful. Thank you."_

_Her hug surprised him before he held her tighter, remembering and memorizing what she felt like against him, everything about her, of what she looked like, of what she tasted of, everything._

_"I'm sorry..."_

_He heard all she did not say and kissed her deeply then, trying to make the warmth last for as long as possible before she broke away to hitch up onto her horse, tucking Needle beneath her coat. He knew she did not give herself to him completely for a reason. Knowing did not help the pain._

_He took a little comfort in knowing she would never forget him as she held the remade sword by her side just as he knew she kept it to remember the man who gave it to her and everything she had in the past._

_He watched her ride off, her horse churning the fresh fallen snow as the sound of wolves howling filled the cold dusk air._

* * *

He did not tell her that he had sworn to never let her go again.

He knew he would dream of her, of the north, of her wolves, of the winter storms that were coming. He would dream of finding her, of claiming her as he rode out against the sleet and ice. He would dream as he hammered away in his forge, and he would wait.

His hammer would once again make the steel of Needle sing under his skilled hands...besides, a hundred wolves were not hard to track.


End file.
